


menagerie

by sinequanon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Animal Transformation, Cursed Stiles, Feral Peter, M/M, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 16:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10167074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: Stiles isn't sure how he ended up cursed and halfway around the world, but he's blaming Laura.





	1. April

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this one. I alternate between thinking that it's decent and wondering what exactly was in my water while I was writing this. It's strangely fluffy, and weird, and while I hope people like it, I won't be terribly surprised if no one does.
> 
> The information for this fic says that it has chapters, but really, they aren't chapters, but tiny sections of the larger piece; it just didn't look quite right keeping them all together on the same page. Go ahead and click the Entire Work tab, though, so you don't curse me for my little bitty "chapters".

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart--  
\--from _Wilderness_ by Carl Sandburg

 

Being a wombat was not so bad. Sure, there were predators, but burrowing through tunnels was cool, he didn't seem to need to eat or drink very often, and when a dingo did spot him, he stuck his head in the ground and literally defended his territory with his _actual_ tough butt (and occasionally by kicking).

Stiles wasn't sure how he ended up in Australia, or how long he’d been there, but he’d bet all of the curly fries in California that the Hales were to blame. He loved them like family, really, but it seemed like every crazy event in his life led back to Beacon Hills and that brood.

So, magically being transported to Australia and becoming a wombat? Definitely a Hale-induced problem. His money was on Laura, who seemed to take an inordinate amount of joy in seeing just how far she could push people before they snapped. Unfortunately, many of her victims were rather powerful themselves, and if they couldn't strike back at Laura directly, well...

It would be just his luck to be cursed over something Laura did.

Fun fact: the Aborigines used to eat wombat. Normally, that would be cause for concern, but thankfully, the first Aboriginal man to come across Stiles (after who knew how many days in the wild) immediately recognized that Stiles was not, in fact, just an adorably large rodent, but a human trapped in a large rodent’s body, and kindly spent the next few days trying to turn him back into a real boy.

“It is a test,” he finally said on the fourth day. “You have one year to make it home, or your loved ones will be lost to you forever.” Wombat-Stiles evidently made a suitably disgruntled expression at that, because the man laughed. “I cannot undo the curse, but I can send you luck, from time to time. Safe journey, and perhaps come and see me when you are yourself again.”

If Stiles ever made it home, he was swearing off werewolves forever. He didn't care how cuddly they were, or how much he enjoyed it when one of them stood behind him while he was upset and glared at the problem like his own personal guard dog; if he saw one on the street he was going to go in the opposite direction posthaste.

He’d chosen to go to school in England specifically because he’d wanted to get away from supernatural stuff for awhile. Sure, the continent was practically saturated with ghosts, but Stiles would take ghosts over alpha disputes and weird pack instincts any day of the week. Not that there weren't packs in Europe, but all of the drag-out, cage match-like wackiness that happened in the States was considered uncivilized everywhere else, and the entire supernatural contingent of Europe generally seemed more laid back and less likely to blatantly disregard Stiles’s need for personal space.

(Obviously, if he had wanted to be free of the Hales, he hadn't gone far enough.)

<> <> <> <>

Being a wallaby was more fun than being a wombat, and jumping was definitely a faster way of getting home than the waddling he had been doing before.

So, he was still stuck as a non-human, but at least he was moving up in the world. Honestly, kicking predators made him feel like some sort of ninja, and he jumped so high and so fast that it almost felt like he was flying.

He was sure he looked utterly ridiculous as he hopped his way across the continent, but truthfully, he was having too much fun at the moment to care.


	2. May

All anyone knew was that Stiles Stilinski disappeared on his way home from class on an otherwise ordinary Wednesday night. There were no witnesses, no suspects, and no evidence.

The Hale family dedicated their not-inconsiderable resources toward finding him, with no success.

The Sheriff was devastated, and the Hales kept searching.

 


	3. June-August

Flowers and leaves were surprisingly tasty. Also, the fact that he had suddenly woken up in the rainforest, when the night before he had been in the Outback, was a bit worrisome.

He knew where (and what) he was now only because he had done a report on tree kangaroos in the fourth grade; it had made him popular with the girls in his class, if only because tree kangaroos were so much cuter than the lions, tigers, and tarantulas the rest of the boys chose.

He knew next to nothing about Papua New Guinea, but at least the act of being a tree kangaroo seemed to come instinctively (just like wombat and wallaby) even if he had no idea what to do from here. After all, he was slightly closer to home, but it was highly unlikely that he’d find another sympathetic soul wandering around in the rainforest waiting to give him directions.

It was much more likely that he would be spotted by a scientist and studied, or put in a zoo and stuck in captivity for the rest of his life.

After nearly a month in the rainforest, Stiles had spotted approximately one other tree kangaroo, and she had been too far away for Stiles to attempt any conversation. He wasn't even sure he could communicate with the animals he mimicked. After all, he wasn't really an animal, he was just stuck in the body of one.

 _Thanks, Laura_.

Frankly, the Hales were lucky that Stiles was so easygoing, because he imagined that most people wouldn't tolerate such a non-consensual animal adventure. His turn as the “horsey” for little Rosalind’s last birthday party was more than enough for him.

He had to admit, though, that leaping from tree to tree, high above the ground, and balancing on his tail was a lot of fun.

He just hoped that whatever magic had taken him from Australia to Papua New Guinea would send him to the United States soon. Or at least to England, where he could touch base with his friends and no doubt find some witchy person to ship him home.

<> <> <> <>

Stiles was going to be eaten by a snake, and then he was going to haunt Laura for the rest of her life. Frankly, he didn't even care if he was going to have to haunt her as a frog, that was how tired he was of dodging hungry reptiles. It would be just like _The Tell-Tale Heart_ , but with the sound of croaking instead of heartbeats.

It had obviously been too much to ask the magic to send him home, because now he was stuck in an entirely different rainforest as some sort of weird flying frog. He assumed that he was closer to home--there were only so many rainforests in the world--but he didn't know for certain, and that made him nervous.

What if whoever had done this to him was just stringing him along? What if he was going around in circles? What if he died, and his dad never found out what had happened to him? Frankly, he tried not to think that way, but it was difficult not to when he didn't know how or why this was happening to him. He kept blaming Laura, but what if it didn't have anything to do with her? What if it was frowny Derek and his poor choices in girlfriends? What if Cora had punched the wrong person? What if Peter had finally made one too many enemies?

He decided that he’d frog-haunt whoever was responsible for his current situation, even if he had to live in the backyard and drive everyone crazy. He deserved retribution.

Whatever type of frog he was, he lived in the trees instead of on the ground, so at least he wasn't going to be eaten by a jungle cat or another large carnivore. Although, to be fair, being eaten would be unpleasant regardless of whether he was consumed by a snake or a big cat; it was just that there was no way he’d be able to face his mom in the afterlife if he became snake food.

Speaking of which…

Puffing up like a parachute and gliding to another tree was awesome, if one didn't count the fact that Stiles wasn't very good at it. Thankfully, his toe pads were big and sticky, because as much as he wanted to get away from that snake, it wasn't safe on the forest floor, either, and who knew what could come by to eat him if he accidentally knocked himself out with a tree?

He hoped all of the hopping, leaping, and gliding he’d had to do so far was keeping him in shape, at least; if he didn't at least get some cardio benefits out of this whole mess, he was going to be upset.


	4. September-November

  
The good news was that Stiles was pretty sure knew where he was this time. The bad news was that although he mostly traveled at night, he had seen enough people with guns tromping through the underbrush near him to make him truly concerned about making it to his next destination.

Just because he was smaller than most bears, didn't make him less likely to end up poached by an enterprising hunter. In this case, the opposite was true.

Unfortunately, sun bears were both reclusive and distinctive enough that even if Stiles had the stamina to walk across China, he would definitely end up as someone's skin cream or heart medication long before he made it to his destination. His long claws and teeth were impressive, to be sure, but not when Stiles mostly used them to tear apart trees in search of insects to eat.

(Right now, he was far closer to teddy bear than grizzly.)

<> <> <> <>

The Himalayas were good cover for a cat like him, and he liked to climb the rocks just as much as he had liked hopping across Australia. Also, hanging upside down from a tree? Totally possible for a clouded leopard.

Stiles wasn't sure how long he’d been cursed, but he knew that it had to have been a few months, at least.

Even if nobody could find him, maybe they’d find whoever did this and reverse it. He’s sure his dad would prefer him being arrested for illegally crossing international borders to being a cat forever. At this point, he’d probably even let the Hales cloister him away for awhile, assuming that they could pry him away from his dad.

By now, he could tell when he was getting ready to shift into a new body a couple of days before it happened. He also recognized that, despite the tiny jumps, they _were_ moving toward home, and he was very lucky to not have to travel the entire distance by foot.

(He was extremely grateful.)


	5. December

It hurt to say it (it hurt to even _think_ it), but Peter was giving up hope that Stiles would ever be found.

Unfortunately, by the time Jennifer's betrayal had come to light, it was far too late to stop her. She had taken Stiles--clever, brave, human Stiles--and hidden him from them. Had he known that Jennifer felt so threatened by the young man, Peter would have ripped her throat out long before she had a chance to harm him, no matter what trouble it might have brought to the pack.

Instead, she had dispatched of a valuable ally, and she was holding his family hostage while she drained them and their land of magic. Peter felt himself slipping closer to feral each time she touched him, thoughts of Stiles, suffering or dead, flashing through his mind.

One day, with the sound of Derek's screams in his ears, Peter shattered and ran.


	6. January-March

Being a small, shrew-like creature in another unfamiliar forest? No thanks. He was slow, small, and if it wasn't for the spines and incredibly sensitive whiskers, the experience would have been no fun at all.

Not to mention, he missed his dad terribly.

<> <> <> <>

Stiles was surely going to die, because even though he was a bird this time, there was no way a kingfisher could fly all the way across the Atlantic, right? He’d have to land sometime, and what if there weren't any passing ships or rocks nearby when he got tired? Bright colors and a cool-looking beak weren't going to help him fly farther or faster, and somehow, crashing and disappearing into the ocean seemed like an even worse fate than being eaten by a snake.

Of course, if he didn't try, there was no guarantee that he’d ever make it home. He’d been moving in the right direction, but this was his best chance to cover a lot of ground in a short amount of time.

He took to the air, and prayed for a miracle.

<> <> <> <>

Hanging out in the trees, only coming out at night, eating fruit, and sipping from flowers? It wasn't the most horrible existence...but he was almost out of time.

If he didn't make it home, would he completely turn into whatever animal he was inhabiting? Would he retain his human mind? What if, when the man told him that his loved ones would be lost forever, he meant that something bad would happen to them because Stiles wasn't able to prevent it?

He still planned to avoid the Hales as much as possible when he got home, but if he needed to save them first, he would. He was perfectly willing to save the yelling and ass-kicking for a later date.


	7. April

If Stiles had a panic attack as a mouse, it would probably kill him. His little heart would explode, and then everyone else would suffer because Stiles couldn't move his mousy butt quickly enough. He was back in the states, he knew--probably Utah or Nevada--but there was a lot of territory between him and Beacon Hills, and plenty of predators roaming the skies looking for a meal.

He’d need a miracle to make it home on time and in one piece.

He was seriously considering just throwing himself into the nearest canyon after another night of near-misses when he noticed a girl about his age watching him.

“You’re here a bit later than I expected,” she said, scooping him up, “but then, luck is pretty fickle, isn't it?” Stiles stayed as still as he could in her hand while she walked them to her home. Not that it took that much effort, really, because he was exhausted. “If we get started tonight, you should be home by tomorrow.”

Stiles wanted to pay attention to what she was doing, he really did, but he hadn't had any sleep in days and drifted off almost as soon as she set him down.

He woke up as she was tying a tiny charm to his leg, and he tilted his head inquiringly at her.

“For remembrance and protection,” she said simply. “The rest is up to you.”

He felt his eyes drooping, and when he opened them, he was staring into ice blue eyes of a very familiar wolf.

He wanted to throw his arms around the wolf and never let go. Unfortunately, he didn't actually have arms at the moment, and Peter didn’t look particularly welcoming.

Peter probably wouldn't eat him--he was pretty sure wolves didn't eat mice--but he’d likely maul him to death, if the growling was any indication.

Stiles knew that as a human, Peter would never harm him, even if the wolf was mostly feral. As a mouse, though…

It didn't help that Stiles was frozen in fear, and Stiles started to worry that he wouldn't get the chance to save the Hales because Peter was going to kill him before he even got out of the woods.

He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the end, but instead of claws, Stiles suddenly felt a rough tongue brush against his fur, followed by a low whine that had Stiles throwing his eyes open in surprise. There was a flash of brightness, making them both squint, and it took Stiles a moment to realize the charm on his leg was shining in the sun.

Peter was still a mangy-looking wolf, but he stared at Stiles with a wonder that Stiles didn't know he could manage in wolf form, like he couldn't understand what was happening but was very happy about it anyway.

Stiles wished he could reassure him, but he didn't have any answers. Or vocal chords.

Peter must have sensed something, though, because he whined again--long and high this time--and gingerly picked Stiles up between his teeth like a mother cat carrying a kitten. Stiles briefly considered struggling, but the most he could do was hope that Peter wouldn't drop him as they ran toward the Hale house.

As luck would have it, the door to the Hale house was wide open when they approached, and Peter didn't hesitate to run straight through into the living room where Jennifer and the rest of the Hale family were located.

Jennifer wasn't the only one who gasped at the sight of Peter and a mouse, but Jennifer was the only one who recognized the mouse as Stiles.

Even as the rest of the Hales moved toward Peter, Jennifer focused on Stiles, and Stiles’s mind raced as he tried to figure out how he--as a mouse or a human, assuming that he turned back--was going to defeat someone so much stronger than him.

Evidently, his arrival was enough of a distraction, because by the time Peter set him gently in the corner, the rest of the family had jumped on the woman. Even weakened, they managed to work together to overpower their captor long enough for Peter to stalk forward, and with a roar that rattled the windows, leap at Jennifer's throat.

As soon as Jennifer fell, blood pooling on the floor, Peter moved back to Stiles, picked him up once again, and headed toward Deaton’s, leaving the rest of his family to chase after him.

<> <>

Maybe it was too late, Stiles thought, as he and Peter raced toward the clinic. Maybe Stiles needed to be the one to kill Jennifer in order to break the curse, and now that Jennifer was dead Stiles would be stuck as a mouse forever. Maybe Peter was taking him to Deaton so that the veterinarian could put him down.

Except, when they got to the clinic, Peter refused to move away when Deaton tried to separate them, even going so far as to growl at the other man when Stiles squeaked in alarm.

Deaton sighed, but worked around Peter until Talia rushed in and, after taking in the situation, ordered Peter to change back to human.

“I can take Uncle Peter home,” Derek said, stepping forward, only to freeze when Peter growled at him as well.

“What--”

“Mine,” Peter snapped, petting the mouse with a single finger.

“Peter--” Talia began.

“Mine! Stiles!”

Talia sighed and shared a sad look look with Deaton. “Peter, Stiles is--”

“No! Stiles!”

“It's a mouse, Uncle Peter,” Laura started, even as Cora started looking at his uncle's newfound pet with critical new eyes.

“Stiles?” she asked.

The look on Stiles’s face evidently communicated the human’s “so done with the supernatural” stance, because Talia let out a cry and Laura immediately called his father, who rushed into the clinic less than fifteen minutes later.

Deaton had no idea what Jennifer had done to him, he said regretfully, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Peter had scooped him up at the news, placing the mouse carefully inside the pocket of his shirt, and Stiles fell asleep to the sound of the other man’s heart against his ear.

It took Stiles more than a few minutes to orient himself the next morning. He’d never admit it, but it wasn't until Peter cupped Stiles’s face in his hands and kissed him that he realized he was human again.

He’d be sure to celebrate as soon as Peter stopped kissing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still shuffling the schedule, so I'm not sure what I'll post next week; it'll have to be another surprise.
> 
> I didn't always identify Stiles's species and/or location as he traveled in this fic, so here's a list for the curious:
> 
> wombat and wallaby, Australia; Matschie’s tree kangaroo, Papua New Guinea; Wallace's flying frog, Malaysia; sun bear, China; clouded leopard, Nepal; tenrec, Madagascar; kingfisher, Africa; kinkajou, Central America; Pacific pocket mouse, California.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
